


Butterfly Bandages and Butterfly Kisses

by medusasmirror



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Caring Xander, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shmoop, Spike is being surprisingly sweet, ooc Xander
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusasmirror/pseuds/medusasmirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet another "Xander finds a hurt Spike and has a change of heart" fics. Because why not?<br/>Rating for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Damnit!” Xander shouted as he dropped his tool belt on his foot. The hammer landed on his boot with a dull ‘thunk.’

Honestly, it didn’t hurt that much through his heavy work boots, but it was just one thing too many at the end of a terrible day. He considered kicking the toolbelt, but just in time, thought better of it. There was no point in courting a broken toe, so it was just best to leave it. Instead, he glared at the offending tool belt as it lay crumpled on the beige carpet before turning and heading for the bathroom. 

“Bad day, ducks?” Spike asked from the shadowed recesses of the couch. 

Xander somehow screamed, jumped backward without tripping over the toolbelt, and flipped on the living room lights all in one completely smooth movement. “Great googly moogly! What the hell, Spike?”

“Surprise!” the vampire sang out, spreading his arms wide. 

It took Xander a minute to calm his racing heart and actually look at his unexpected houseguest. Spike, to put it bluntly, looked like shit. His face was bruised and bloody, his skin was an ashy grey rather than the marble-like white it usually was. His shirt was torn and his jeans were covered in mud, blood, and other fluids Xander would rather not think about seeping into his couch. 

“Fuck, Spike, what happened to you?” the Scooby asked, moving quickly now out of concern rather than fear. The coppery tang of blood mixed with Spike’s pervasive smell of cigarettes, thick enough to coat Xander’s throat as soon as he got close. 

“Couple of jocks thought me crypt would be a fine place to hide their steroids. They didn’t much like me popping in to ask what the hell was interrupting my kip,” Spike said, shrugging to show how little he cared. Unfortunately, the movement of his shoulders pulled at what were obviously broken ribs and the vampire flickered in and out of gameface as he tried to ride out the pain. 

Xander crouched on the floor in front of the wounded vampire. He and Spike didn’t always see eye to eye, but as much as he joked about cutting the vamp loose or beating information out of him, he didn’t actually mean any of it. It was... well, it was a shitty way to behave, he finally admitted to himself, but there was no real malice in it. He gently started to check the vampire over; running light fingers over shins, thighs, and then up onto his torso, looking for damage. The denim was cold, wet, and rough under his fingers. Xander tried to avoid the muddiest parts, but those were also the areas he was most likely to find injuries in. 

The whole time, Spike just sat and watched him, barely moving except for a tightening around his eyes, or a flaring of his nostrils when Xander hit a particularly tender area. He’d never tended to anyone who was this damn quiet. Even Buffy yelped a little when he cleaned out her scratches or pressed on a particularly deep bruise. 

Xander winced when he felt the swollen, almost spongy texture on Spike’s right side. He pulled his hand away quickly as the vampire hissed under the gentle pressure. “Shit, Spike, your ribs aren’t just broken, they’re practically pulverized.”

“I am aware of that, whelp. Nothing I haven’t had before,” he said, bravado dripping from his voice like honey. 

“Not when you were this far out from a full meal, I bet,” Xander said, not letting the vampire put him off. 

“Well, no, now that you mention it, it has been a bit since my last good feed. Fancy helping a bloke out?” Spike leered. 

“I’m not planning to make a direct donation, if that’s what you’re angling for, but I’m not going to leave you like this either,” Xander said, standing up from his crouch. 

He walked quickly into the bedroom and opened the third drawer in his dresser. He tried not to wince when he saw the empty space next to his carefully rolled up tube socks. He found the pair of novelty Christmas socks with the fat penguins that Willow had given him for Hanukkah two years ago and pulled them out of the drawer. He quickly unrolled them and dug out the wad of cash tucked down into one toe. He peeled several hundreds off before replacing the rest of his emergency stash and putting the socks back.

It was nice that Anya hadn’t taken it. He knew how much money meant to her, and really, they’d both contributed to the little hoard. But then again, she knew how much having an emergency plan meant to him. He pushed thoughts of his now ex-girlfriend far, far out of his mind and went back into the livingroom. 

“Ok, will you be alright if I’m gone for twenty minutes or so?” he asked the vampire on his way to the apartment door.

“I’ll do, pet. Not going to ash on your sofa just yet.” Spike tried to smirk, but it came out looking more like he was a brave urchin about to die on a barricade like in that one play Willow’s parents had taken him to see. 

“Ok, Gavroche...” That was the name! “Try not to expire before I’ll get back.” He ignored the raised eyebrow at the Les Mis reference and grabbed his keys out of the bowl beside the door. “Oh, hang on,” Xander said, hand on the knob. “How did you get in?”

“Your bird let me in on her way out. Sorry about,” he waved a hand vaguely. “All that.”

“Thanks. It’s... I appreciate it.” Xander shook his head. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said and quietly left the apartment.   
Once he got down to the street and into his car, Xander took a couple of seconds to collect himself. He laughed a little bitterly. How funny was it that of all his social group, only Spike expressed any sympathy for his split with Anya. That was almost as weird as having a civil conversation with the vampire to begin with. Shaking his head, Xander cranked the car and pulled out to go try to save the vampire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike's POV on how he got to the apartment.

Chapter 2

As soon as the door closed behind the whelp, Spike slumped back against the sofa. His ribs were bloody killing him, but he couldn’t think too much about why or the bloody buggering chip would fry his bleedin’ brain. Again. He was fairly sure at least one rib had finally popped during his last bout of science-induced agony.   
He’d told the boy that he’d had worse, and it was true. But it had been a long time since he’d been this close to dust. Not enough blood in months, not for the damage those boots had done him. He shook his head before he could go too far down that path. Nothing to be gained by retreading old regrets. “If’s” and “or’s” were for poets. And he hadn’t been one of those in long enough that it didn’t count anymore.   
“At least the whelp left the light on,” he said, stretching his fingers to try to snag the remote without actually moving his torso. Nonetheless, he was feeling an ominous tightening in his ribs by the time he had inched the bit of plastic close enough to grab. “Might as well watch something while I wait,” he muttered as he started flipping channels.   
He wondered how long the boy would let him stay here. Long enough to heal up good, he hoped. It had been a bit of luck running into the demon girl on her way out. He’d come up through a sewer entrance into the building’s communal laundry room just as she had been collecting a load and offered him the hospitality of her new ex’s apartment.   
“He’s really not as bad as he seems,” she’d told him when he hesitated. “He has this whole thing when he’s around Buffy and Willow. It’s like he froze during high school and has to stay exactly the way they remember him. But when we’re alone...” she’d trailed off. Spike thought she hadn’t exactly known how to explain it.   
“Anyway,” she’d continued after a moment. “You’d be safe here for a while. And we wouldn’t bother you with our orgasms, since we aren’t having those anymore. Together, I mean!” She’d looked briefly horrified at the thought of no more orgasms. “We aren’t having them together.”  
“You going to go all vengence-y on the lad?” he’d asked, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. He didn’t actually know why the breakup had happened. Only that the whelp had announced two days ago that he and the demon girl were split. Spike was pretty sure Red had been on the verge of cheering at the news.   
“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. I just...” She’d trailed off and looked at him straight on, leaving her laundry unfolded for the moment. “I’m mortal now. I can’t... I can’t keep going out there and fighting. I know how bad the things we’re going up against are. I thought, when I came back after the whole thing with the Mayor that I knew what I was doing, that I could commit to the fight. But I can’t. I’m so scared, Spike. Every night out there, I’m so afraid. It’s worse than bunnies.”   
She’d looked at him so earnestly, tears standing in her eyes. And he’d known where she was coming from. Her mortality, his chip; they had both taken demons at the top of their game and made them small and weak. So, he’d patted her on the hand and thanked her for the entre to the whelp’s apartment and not so much as thought the words “coward” or “betrayal.” He knew that she was saying them both over and over again in her own head.   
“You leaving town?” he’d asked instead.   
“I have to,” she’d said. And they both ignored the sniff that had come after that. “I’m headed to Seattle. I found a job doing the books for a small roastery up there.”  
“Accounting, eh? That’s impressive. They hire you on without paperwork? Degrees and whatnot?” He’d genuinely been interested. The chit had come into this world with no identity that he knew of. He’d always wondered if that was why she worked for the Watcher, getting paid under the table. Customer service didn’t really seem to be her niche.   
“Oh, I called in a favor and Clem set me up with someone who took care of it all. I had a 3.85 GPA in my major,” she said brightly.   
“Good plan, ducks. Not too good or they’ll wonder why you want to work for them. But good enough that they’ll thank their lucky stars.” He nodded approvingly.   
“Exactly. And I really am very good with money. Xander’s-” her voice broke a little on the whelp’s name, but she took a deep breath and pressed on. “Xander’s portfolio is very diverse and well funded. I’ve left it with a very good broker,” she said earnestly, as though Spike were going to accuse her of financial neglect.   
“I’m sure you did, pet. Hey,” he said, as an afterthought. “Could you give me that broker’s name? I’ve got a bit put by here and there, but it might be time to diversify some of my assets now that it looks like I’m stuck here with this chip.” He’d reached up to tap his forehead, but the movement set off a symphony of pain all along his ribs. He’d let his hand fall with a faint groan.   
“I’ll write it down for you,” she’d promised as she’d slung his arm over her shoulders.   
“I’ll get your top all messy,” he’d warned, not really sure why. It was just... she was the closest thing to someone who understood him in the group. And she was about to leave.   
“It won’t be the first time,” she’d said and they’d walked slowly to the building’s temperamental elevator. The bumpy ride had been agony, but it had been better than trying to haul himself up all four flights of stairs.   
She’d gotten him onto the couch before she left again, coming up a little later with the full laundry basket. He’d noticed a small fuzzy brown tail poking out of one of the plastic squares of mesh. The toy looked old and worn, and he’d wondered where it had come from. It hadn’t been in the much emptier basket when the chit had come back out of the bedroom.   
“Clearing out today?” he’d asked, just to break the silence. The apartment smelled like blood (his) and tears that the demon girl wasn’t letting out. He couldn’t stand it.   
“Yeah. Just the last few things,” she said, gathering up a small pile from the coffee table. It looked like some bits and bobs of jewelry, a few issues of Forbes magazine, and small stack of self help books. Not much to show for the intensity of the relationship. But, he reasoned, she’d probably done the bulk of the move out already. This was just the last check before she left.   
He’d been lucky that she’d found him down in the laundry room. He didn’t even really realize that this had been the whelp’s building. It was just somewhere to get out of the sewers for a bit. He’d made himself more than a bit unpopular with the underground denizens. It was too dangerous for him to be in easy reach while he was this vulnerable.   
“Well, good luck, Spike,” she’d said as she carried her basket to the door.   
“You too, ducks. Drop a line now and then, yeah?” He wasn’t sure why he said it. He wasn’t exactly the sort to keep in touch, but he wanted to know she was doing ok out there. Away from the Hellmouth. He wanted to know that it was possible to build a life after being a demon.   
She looked at him for a moment, head cocked to the side, seeming to weigh his sincerity. “I will,” she said and then she’d been gone, leaving him in an empty apartment to wait for the whelp to come home. 

Spike spared a moment to wish her luck again before he settled on a show to watch while he waited a little longer. He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of help the Scooby would be bringing back, but he was hoping for at least four bags of blood. He’d need at least that much to get on his feet again although the thought of drinking that much pig’s blood in one sitting made him shudder. It was disgusting stuff, but it was fairly easy to get and it kept him alive. So, he’d drink it and be glad. Or, at least, he thought somewhat more realistically, he’d keep the complaining down to a minimum.


	3. Chapter 3 - Garnish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander goes to the only place in town to get help for an injured vampire - a bar.

Chapter 3

Xander took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders before he pushed open the door to Willie’s Alibi Bar. he knew that coming in here alone was not the smartest thing he’d ever done, but it was the only place he knew of to get what he needed. It was a shame he didn’t know anyone working at the blood bank, but much like pizza delivery, that was a job with a high turnover rate so it was usually staffed by out-of-towners, so he had no pull there. Willie, on the other hand, was always happy to do a favor for a Scooby. Sort of.   
“Harris.” Willie was eyeing him while his hands were occupied unnecessarily polishing a hi-ball glass. “Slayer with you today?”  
“Just me this time, Willie. And yes,” he said over his shoulder to the group of demons playing cards in the corner, “people know where I am, so don’t get cute.” Most of the demons here, especially the vampires at the big booth along the back wall, would be able to tell that he was lying if they were closer to him, but he was betting that with all the scents milling around in the bar, he could get away with his bluff.   
In front of him, the weasley bartender relaxed and put down the glass. His hands rested softly on the bar in front of him. Now that a beating was off the table, he was willing to deal. “Ok, Harris, what do you need?”  
“I need ten pints of red, to go.” Xander stared steadily into Willie’s face as the smaller man’s eyes widened.   
“Harris, man, you aren’t...” He trailed off gratefully when Xander shook his head.   
“No, it’s not for me.”   
Xander was trying very hard not to use Spike’s name. The vampires wasn’t exactly very popular in the underground since he’d started teaming up with Team Scooby. The bartender’s brows furrowed, but he gamely started piling blood bags up on the bar. He looked at Xander and then at the demons scattered around the bar and pulled out a brown shopping bag.   
Once the bags were all in the bag with a cold pack on top of them, Willie totaled it all up. Xander winced, but he handed over the requested cash. It was actually a little less than he’d been expecting. A quick look at Willie’s tense face warned him not to ask about it.   
“Thanks, man.” Xander picked up the bag by its sturdy paper handles and started to turn away.   
“Hey, Harris,” Willie said softly. “Be careful on the way home.”   
Xander nodded and very pointedly didn’t look at anyone else in the room. His back felt like eels were slithering over it as he walked the fifteen steps back to the door. It was a deliberate act of will not to tighten his hand on the bag’s handles until his knuckles whitened.   
He was grateful for the sunlight that he was stepping into. Not that vampires were the only ones who might be interested in a bag full of blood, but taking them out of the equation made him feel a little safer. The fact that his car was almost directly outside the bar’s door also helped him to relax his shoulders a bit from where they were trying to crawl up into his ears.   
Xander slid into the car quickly and didn’t bother locking the doors or fastening his seat belt before he cranked the ignition and peeled quickly out of the parking lot. He’d seen too many horror movies where the protagonist thought they were safe just because they’d gone through a door or sat in a car. He wanted the safety of distance before he even worried about observing basic safety protocols. Once he was several blocks away he slowed the car enough to pull his seat belt across his body. The quiet ‘click’ as it sank home allowed him to relax even further and as the tension sank out of his muscles his hands started to shake a little on the steering wheel.   
A horn blared behind him and Xander’s heart started pounding as he pressed harder on the gas to bring the car back up to speed with the rest of traffic. Sunnydale wasn’t a very big town, so Xander’s adrenaline was still high by the time he pulled into a space near his apartment building. Once again, he sat behind the wheel of his car, taking deep breaths and trying to bring his heart rate back down. Once his equilibrium had been mostly restored he picked up the bag and headed inside. 

“Spike, I’m back,” he called out as he unlocked the door. The sound of heavy grunts and a woman’s moans greeted him. “Spike, are you... Are you watching porn?” he asked with disbelief.   
“It was in the DVD player,” the vampire called back with no guilt evident in his voice.   
“In the...” Xander trailed off as he realized that, yes, there would indeed have been porn in the DVD player. He’d been watching the Star Trek spoof to cheer himself up after Anya had left. And never actually gotten around to putting it away again. He blushed hotly at the thought of someone else watching his porn. That was surprisingly intimate.   
“This one’s not bad,” the vampire said. “I think one or two of them even took an acting lesson. ‘s funny, any road.”  
Xander carried his bag into the living room, slightly afraid of what he might see. He glanced quickly at the couch, ready to look away at any unexpected skin, but found Spike pretty much the way he’d left him, slumped down into the corner of the couch, wearing his jeans and bloodstained tee shirt. Thank all the gods, he thought to himself. Vampire ass was not something he thought Scotch Guard could protect his couch against.   
“You weren’t gone that long.”  
“What?” Xander asked over his shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen.   
“Your errand, whatever it was. You weren’t gone long,” Spike said, casually. “Didn’t find what you were after?”  
“What? No. Just didn’t have to wait long at Willy’s.” He set the bag down on the counter and fished out a bag, and then used his other hand to snag a mug off the tree. While he drained the blood into the mug Xander tried to remember how long the vampire had microwaved his blood. It wasn’t the beverage setting, he knew that. Was it a minute? Just long enough to get the chill off?  
“Why not,” he said as he put the mug, now covered with a paper towel, into the microwave and set the timer for a minute, thirty.   
“How much did you get?” Spike called from the couch.   
Xander answered him while he tried to find room in the fridge for the remaining nine. He finally settled on the crisper drawer, ousting a very depressed bunch of celery to make room. A little twinge of mischief had him breaking off a leafy stalk before he binned the rest. Once the microwave beeped, Xander pulled out the mug and popped the celery in as garnish. Now it just looked like a really, really thick Bloody Mary. That wasn’t weird, right? Just taking a Bloody Mary to his guest.   
“Here you go, Spike. Let me know when you need another one,” he said, handing the mug to the vampire. Spike was still grey, but he didn’t look any worse than when Xander had left.   
“Ta.” The blonde lifted the cup to his lips, neatly avoiding the garnish, and took a long sip. His eyebrows flew upward and he looked at Xander with wide eyes.   
“What? Is it bad? Did it go off? It looked ok...” Xander trailed off as Spike raised his hand.   
“This is human, mate.” Spike was staring at him with eyes so wide he could have been an anime character.   
“I know,” Xander answered, confused.   
“It’s not pig.”  
“Yes, that’s inherent in the whole “human” thing,” he answered, still not sure what the vampire’s problem was. As he looked, he could see Spike’s badass persona settling back over the vampire.   
“Ta then,” the vampire said, lifting the mug in a small salute.   
Xander just watched as the vampire drained the mug and then crunched his way through the bloodstained celery. Yep, just like a Bloody Mary, the Scooby told himself as he carried the mug back into the kitchen for a refill.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike contemplates his unexpected good fortune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been such a long time. I got my butt kicked by some sort of demonic cold/allergy hybrid which rolled straight into convention season. But, thank you to the commenters who reminded me about this story!  
> It may be a little bit before Chapter 5 gets up. I've got another convention this weekend, so I have to pack and get all my stuff ready for my booth (I make jewelry.) But I'll try to get something up soon!

Human. The whelp had gotten him human blood and shrugged it off like it was no big thing. Spike hadn’t had human blood since he’d escaped from the Initiative wankers and their drugged blood bags. And there was more in the fridge. There was, from the sounds the boy had made putting them away, several more bags in the fridge. 

Spike sat waiting for the refill that was even now revolving in the microwave. He could feel the warm blood coursing through his system and starting the repair work. Big things first, which meant his ribs were starting to reform from the jagged splinters that had been floating around his torso. It was not the most comfortable process and he was rather glad the whelp... Xander. He was helping him, at great personal expense if Spike thought about what that blood had cost, he could at least use the lad’s name. In his own head anyway. 

Anyway, he was glad that Xander wasn’t in the room with him just now. He relaxed the control he’d been keeping over his features and let them slide into gameface. It was always easier to deal with pain when he wasn’t trying to do the pretty. 

“Spike,” Xander called from the kitchen. “Do you need more than one more mug right now?”

Spike assessed his injuries. The first mug would get his ribs mostly back in place, but after a beating like this he’d normally go out and drain at least one human a night for a few days. Although, that was when he was trying to keep up with Angelus, Darla, and Dru. For now, he just wanted to avoid hurting when he changed channels on the telly. 

“Two more should do me for the moment.” 

“Righty-o,” came the surprisingly cheerful reply from the kitchen. 

It was official, he would never understand these blasted Scoobies. Not letting him die, sure, that was par for the very rocky course these days, but to care how much blood he actually needed to get better? That was something else altogether. Spike, being Spike, started to look for the angle. What was the lad planning to get out of this?

He vaguely heard the microwave beep and the clattering as Xander switched out mugs and started it up again, but none of it really registered on him, so it was something of a surprise when a mug of warm blood was suddenly in front of his face. He managed not to jump, but that was due as much to fatigue as it was to control of his reflexes. He took the mug, actually looking at it now. For some reason, the blue mug was decorated with a hammer inside a yellow circle. Spike supposed it was some sort of carpenter thing. Didn’t change the flavor of the blood after all. 

Xander fidgeted while he sipped and Spike finally used his free hand to mute the telly and looked up at him. A steady gaze and a quirked eyebrow soon had the human spilling his guts.   
“So, I’m guessing your crypt is probably a no-fly zone for a while.”

“‘Spect so. I don’t much fancy another round with those bastards. And I reckon they’ll be storing product in my place for the foreseeable future. Seemed quite taken with the telly and the armchair I had set up.”

“Right.” Xander rubbed the back of his neck. The anxiety was practically rolling off him and it seemed to have dried up all his words. 

“Out with it, whelp,” Spike said, more gently than he would have six hours ago. 

“It’s just, I’ve got the space now. With Ahn gone it’ll be quieter and...” he trailed off, a faint blush rising on his tanned cheeks. “I guess I’ve gotten used to the noise.”

“Well, noise I’m good at,” Spike said, taken slightly aback. Even with the help Xander had already given him, an invitation to stay was unexpected.

“Right? And the thing is, it’s not like we don’t know we can cohabitate. We got on alright in the basement. Eventually,” he added more or less truthfully. 

“I’m not sure me tied to the chair counts as alright, ducks.” Spike watched Xander’s shoulders slump. “But, I expect we could do a bit better this time.”

Honestly, the lad looked like a puppy at Christmas. It was sickening. Spike ignored the place deep in his black little heart that grew slightly warm at the thought of someone being that excited by the mere thought of his company. 

“It’ll be great. Anya cleaned out her office, but it was supposed to be a guest bedroom anyway, so there’s already a bed. And we can get some blackout curtains tomorrow. Do you want to try to get any of the stuff from your old place? I could take...” He trailed off before he could say ‘Buffy.’

“Nah, we’ll leave it for now,” Spike said, saving him from coming up with an alternative name. “If I think of something, I’ll call Clem and get him to pick it up.”

“Clem? Isn’t he the one with the,” the boy made some sort of motion that Spike supposed was supposed to represent the wrinkly skin of the friendly demon. 

“That’s him, yeah. He’s stronger than he looks. And he’s always up for doing a bloke a favor.”

“That’s good. I can meet him if he needs help though. I’ve got the truck, after all.” Xander bounced a little on his heels. He looked like he was going to say something more, but the microwave beeped again, signaling that Spike’s last mug was ready. 

While the boy was in the kitchen getting the blood, Spike drew a long, unnecessary breath. He was healing. He had somewhere to stay for the day that was more or less safe. And he had someone that seemed to give a shit if he lived or died. All in all, he was doing better than he had since before he’d come back to Sunnyhell this time around. 

“Here you go.” 

Big brown eyes, tanned skin, floppy hair. Really, the boy was just an overgrown puppy. Although, Spike admitted, just in his own mind, he’d always rather liked puppies. Tried to hide most of them from Dru when he could. Didn’t usually work, but she wasn’t as hard on the dogs as she was on some of her other pets. So Spike had been able to keep his soft spot for them hidden. 

“Ta, pet.” Spike saluted Xander with the new mug and resisted the urge to tell him he was a good boy.


End file.
